Paralyzed
by Anachronistic Anglophile
Summary: What if during Chapter 32 of Deathly Hallows, 'The Elder Wand', Hermione Granger made the rash decision to save Severus Snape in the Shrieking Shack? And can she deal with the aftereffects? Alternate ending for HP7, SS/HG. Drabbles. EWE. Post DH.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

_Premise: What if, during Chapter 32 ('The Elder Wand') of Deathly Hallows, Hermione acts rashly for once and decides to save Snape?_

**Paralyzed**

-1-

Orpheus touched her, and two ideas hit in a blinding flash of inspiration.

_One: Dumbledore did always say that Snape was on our side. Now, if Dumbledore was right—and him being one of the greatest wizards of our century leads me to suspect that he **was**—Harry and I have a moral obligation to save Snape. _

_Two: Even if Dumbledore was wrong, and Snape always was loyal to the Death Eaters, I don't think Snape will be nearly so gung-ho for Voldemort after being attacked. Even Slytherins are affronted when other Slytherins betray them. Therefore, if Harry and I save him, he'll likely prove a useful ally._

Of course, these thoughts materialized in a flurry of impressions rather than words, but they still had an enormous impact on Hermione. Pushing Harry away, she revealed herself to the two men. In the full glory of Gryffindor bravado, she brandished her wand and attempted to fire an _Avada Kedavra_ at Voldemort.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

_Premise: What if, during Chapter 32 ('The Elder Wand') of Deathly Hallows, Hermione acts rashly for once and decides to save Snape?_

**Paralyzed**

-2-

"Granger!" the prostrate potions professor gasped, agape. If not for this cry, Hermione would have attributed his expression to the snake at his neck rather than her sudden appearance. As it was, however, she was startled by the concentration of his eyes on her, and her curse flailed.

Voldemort easily deflected the feeble power.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," the dark wizard stated, a debonair tone to his voice. "What a pleasant surprise. I believe you're just in time to dine with us."

_Us?_ Her mind, in overdrive, analyzed the misused pronoun. _Oh. Of course. His snake feeds on the blood of a dying man, which also satiates his own appetite to demonstrate his superior abilities.  
_

And, to her immense sadness and surprise, she felt like she understood Lord Voldemort's soul.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

_Premise: What if, during Chapter 32 ('The Elder Wand') of Deathly Hallows, Hermione acts rashly for once and decides to save Snape?_

**Paralyzed**

-3-

_Maybe he's like me, _she thought, so startled by the revelation that she was only mildly concerned as she watched Voldemort snap his fingers a single time and Nagini's fangs withdraw from Snape's throat. _Maybe he just wants to prove his magical worth._ That made sense to her.

It was a lot easier to hate the man who once had been Tom Riddle when she couldn't put a face to the name. She knew plenty about him, of course, from what Harry had told her and from her own covert studies. But she had never thought about him as a_ person_ before.

The snake, having done enough damage to Snape, was edging its way over to Hermione.

"Foolish Gryffindor," her opponent chastised softly, and her eyes met his red ones. It didn't occur to her to look away before it was too late.

Memories that she never remembered storing came back to her—an 'O' paper she received in first year with the scathing comment 'could be more coherent' from Flitwick, a time when a new pair of shoes wouldn't fit and she wished for a magical mother to show her how to lengthen them, how one time in sixth-year Potions 'The Prince' was wrong and _she _was right.

Then she realized that she could think clearly again—and Voldemort hadn't killed her yet.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-4-

Voldemort was regarding her with apparent curiosity.

"Fancy that," he murmured. "The Mudblood has ambition. A very keen ambition, if I do say so myself. You never told me this of her, Snape."

The only reply from the Potions Master was a garbled choking noise.

"You are Harry Potter's friend and the brains behind him, I gather?" Voldemort asked, lowering his hand enough that his snake could slowly wind up his arm. "Where is he now?"

She closed her eyes, almost certain that she heard Harry gasp in the darkness behind her._ Voldemort's sure to torture me now._A stone settled in her stomach as she remembered what damage Bellatrix had dealt to her not long prior._ It can't be worse than that, can it?_

But she heard a dry chuckle.

"It's irrelevant. Don't worry, little girl, I'm not going to hurt you."

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-5-

She was stunned. _He's not going to hurt me?_ This incredulity was only brief, however, given the nature of her previous realization. _He knows what I'm like; he just went through my memories. He probably also knows that I can relate to him, since that's what I was just thinking about. Maybe he's going to spare me. But under what condition?_ This was far too obvious—no doubt he would ask her to take the mark.

Voldemort had a wry smile on his face when she looked at him in askance.

"As you've probably already reasoned, young lady, I think you would be an admirable advisor. I do need someone to replace our dear Professor Snape—such a pity I had to dispose of him."

The man on the floor did not stir; the amount of blood around him signified to Hermione that he was already dead. _No one could survive that amount of blood loss for so long._

She blamed herself for having jumped out so rashly. _I might waited until Voldemort left and then have saved him,_ she lamented. _Now I'm in a bad place myself. If only I get out of this alive..._

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-6-

Voldemort continued, "I can understand why you would be on Potter's side from the beginning, Miss Granger: he befriended you in your first year when you chose to battle against that giant troll and overestimated your own capabilities."

_That wasn't a memory he saw, _Hermione thought, but then she cast her eyes down at the dead man across the room. _But Snape was there. Being the spy to Hogwarts, he probably mentioned the thing to Voldemort.  
_

"Yes indeed, it was Snape who mentioned that particular tidbit to me," Voldemort confirmed, watching her intensely. "A good example of Gryffindor bravado, really, to go on such a hopeless quest with nothing but a 'wing and a prayer', so to speak. But while Snape thought the anecdote purely amusing, it told me much about young Potter's character, specifically his primary failing: selflessness. Grand inspiration, it was—later I used it against him, almost successfully."

_Sirius,_ thought Hermione. _Oh God. Sirius' death was my fault! Because Snape believed my story that I had gone up to face trouble alone and the boys followed me? Oh no._

Hermione rarely lied—for rarely did she have to—but she would never do so again. Her pride was incredibly shaken at the repercussions of the single falsehood.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-7-

"Embarrassed, are we?" Voldemort crooned. "Rightfully so. But I think you learned from that experience. Mostly."

His lips twitched in a smirk, and Hermione realized he was alluding to her abrupt entrance minutes ago.

"As I was saying," he went on, "I can understand why you have been on the opposing side for so long, Miss Granger. You were, as I mentioned, befriended by Potter, which obligated you to his debt. After that, you apparently kept his grades afloat—his exam and homework scores marvelously increased once you entered his life. I do think you repaid that debt early on with your assistance alone—but you kept helping him. Why so? I imagine that it's because you didn't _feel_ that your efforts were appreciated—he didn't ever tell you so. Instead, he took advantage of your guilt, never bothering to wonder why you started helping him in the first place."

_He's not right about the guilt, _Hermione thought,_ considering he doesn't know the whole situation. But about my helping them with academics—he's very right. They never truly have thanked me. _She had always been hurt by that, but put up with it, imagining that it would never change._ I didn't help them because I felt guilt—I helped because I love Ron and want him to succeed, and because I pity Harry and his upbringing, which is such a contrast to my own, and I also want him to succeed._

"Then also," Voldemort continued silkily, "you _did _almost have a chance, before your poor foolish headmaster died. Courtesy of Snape, again."

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-8-

_Is this your eulogy for Snape? _Hermione wondered, _or did you rely on him just that much?_ In the latter case, she could understand Voldemort's impressive need to recruit her.

This thought was attended by a guttural groan from the man on the floor.

Snape was still alive.

"Poor fellow," Voldemort said, feigning concern, "perhaps I ought to make it a bit easier for him." He pointed his wand at the immobile Snape. "Or not," he added thoughtfully, drawing it back. "He _was_ un-loyal to me after the First War, crawling to Dumbledore's side for forgiveness. No matter how useful he was to me—I could never fully forget, could I? But you, my dear," he said softly, "You're scarcely of age. Your side was chosen for you. And the people who chose for you were fools."

_That's true,_ Hermione thought._ I never chose to be on the side of the Order and Dumbledore and all the rest of them. But I never retaliated, either,_ she realized. _If I had moral objection to it, then I would have early on._

"You may think now," Voldemort continued, "that you were assigned to be on the better side, morally or ethically. But," he explained, "have you ever considered that the Aurors might be no better than my Death Eaters? There's been death on both sides, and the numbers are nearly equal. We may be seen as 'terrorists'—but my aim, Miss Granger, is not to terrorize. I merely have an idea, one that has proven fairly popular among many, and the government is out to get myself and my supporters. Did you ever think that this might just be a political squabble between the few and the many?"

This resonated far too strongly for her—she didn't found S.P.E.W. without reason!— and, despite her own preconceived notions, she bristled at the unjustness indicated by Voldemort.

_He's trying to turn me, _she reasoned. _And he's arguing at my intellectual level._ The idea was uncomfortable. _It's been so long since I talked to an equal._

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-9-

"But let's talk about you, Miss Granger," the Slytherin continued, "not this dreary political inanity. I'd be a liar to say it bored me, but there are some times at which it's more tactful to stay away from the subject."

He took a step towards her, stroking his snake all the while.

"I trust this is the reason you are so silent this evening?"

Hermione remained stony. _ It's better to not answer anything and make sure he doesn't get a glimpse of my mind again, _she supposed, dropping her eyes to look at the floor.

"You are instinctual when it comes to survival, aren't you?" mused the man. "That is valuable. Now, Miss Granger, I suggest you consider very carefully what I'm going to propose."

She nodded, perhaps too vigorously, in assent.

"In a few minutes' time," Voldemort began, "I will meet Harry Potter on the field of battle. The boy is a fool—he does not know the odds are far, far against him this time. He cannot be lucky on this encounter. This is when my luck changes. I will be victorious, not him.

"When he has been defeated, all of Wizarding Britain will be crushed. My man, Rufus Scrimageour, is in the office of Minister of Magic. At my word, he will resign the place to me. From this position, I will have contact with the Muggle Prime Minister of Britain, and I will take down the parliamentary monarchy, do away with the current royalty, and replace myself as the head of a nation. All this done very slowly, of course, so that no one suspects a thing. No one will be able to stop me, after that—from there I'll be able to begin to extend my prerogative beyond the boundaries of this little island."

Hermione was horrified. _And this is what he desires? World domination?_

"Granted," Voldemort went on, "land and civil power is only secondary to mental power. However, once these lesser powers are achieved, I'll begin to work with this, too. That has been my ultimate aim, after all—to revise the social hierarchy so that the brightest are the highest, not the lowest. I think you'll like what I plan to do."

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-10-

"I plan," he carefully began, "to create a Utopia arranged by the value of one's own mind. For instance," he described, "the wise would rule, rather than the most powerful. Of course," he added, an absent look in his eyes, "right now I'm focused on the powerful—targeting Pureblood wizards was no accident—but the ends, I think, justify the means.

"While now I am eager for rich and stupid in-bred fogies, while now I ostentatiously pursue bringing wizards out of hiding and into a powerful and glorious rule, while now I attract much that I mean to destroy..." Here, words failed him, and he approached Hermione, coming far too close for her own comfort.

"...I think you know what it means to keep your 'friends close but enemies closer', my dear."

She squirmed.

"So," he continued with a twitching smirk, "just what do you think of _that?"_

"I can't say," she replied, demurely looking towards the floor while cursing the fact that her wand was out of sight.

"Are you truly interested?" Voldemort replied, a spark of delight in his voice.

_I need time to think of a plan for escape,_ she told herself, but she couldn't be certain that she wasn't curious.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-11-

"I am interested," she half-lied, "tell me about your hierarchal structure. I suppose it's not based on blood birth?"

She might have imagined a slightly revolted cringe, but it could have been the dim light and the shadows.

"Not at all, my dear," the dark man said, "as I said before, it's based on merit of the mind alone. I base my rankings on one of the greatest minds of the ancients, Plato, who writes of organization of the souls in _Phaedrus_."

"That's a good base," complimented Hermione, for lack of anything better to say.

He took the compliment in stride. "Plato writes, in essence, that the most important people are philosophers—lovers of knowledge and wisdom, not necessarily the pedantic academics who live in books because they do not have the experience of real life. Not like The Underground Man," he affirmed, but Hermione, with her classical wizard education, didn't catch the reference to Dostoyevsky.

"So, the topmost in the social strata is the philosopher, followed by those who have seen "truth in the second degree", as Plato says: he says they would be 'great kings' or 'great warriors', but considering the governmental system I intend to put in place, only the second would be applicable. Think of them as the military cabinet, if you will, Hermione."

He tested her name on his tongue, gauging her reaction, and it took all of her will to smile like a flattered lamb.

The deceit convinced him, apparently, and he continued, "Plato enumerates rank three to consist of politician, economist, and traders. The fourth will consist of healers and athletes, the fifth will be seers and other people who claim to have connection to the divine. Afterwards comes the artists, then your 'average joe' office worker, farmer, or artisan, and after that is...well, Hitler was a trifle extreme to kill all dissenters, but he was right to isolate them. They rank in the lowest class, the political criminals."

"It's...intriguing," Hermione replied, but at the same time felt sick. _My grandparents survived the Holocaust! _she thought. _I'd like to end these 'dreary political inanities'._

All this time, she had let him talk with the hope that she might think of some way to get out of her present situation. Some vague idea had been forming, but at the mention of Hitler, Hermione was distracted, and she blanked, to her great chagrin.

_Damn! I think it's going to come down to me deciding to join Voldemort or die. Which will I choose?_

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-12-

"Hermione."

The syllables were like treacle on Voldemort's tongue. Hermione felt bitter as she heard them.

"Do you like my ideas?"

"I do," she replied, carefully. _Living hell or death? _she pondered. _I'm not fool enough to think that I can get out of this a living Gryffindor._

She wondered vaguely what Severus Snape would have thought to know that she was thinking this. Then she thought about Harry. She hoped he had left, so he wouldn't have to watch her if she chose to turn against him.

"Do you like them enough, Hermione...to rectify the mistakes of those who chose your side for you?"

She closed her eyes, but found that her reason failed her.

_I'll have to go by instinct._

She didn't know what she was going to say, but she opened her mouth, and a single word emerged.

"No."

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	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-13-

"No," she repeated, feeling proud of herself but also, at the same time, very _very _scared. "I can't join you."

Did he seem even remotely crestfallen? She supposed he didn't. His eyes were red, but cold like rubies.

"No matter," he replied, as unconcerned as if a butterfly had landed on his shoulder. "I suppose I should thank you for your time...but, seeing as it's been at my own expense, I won't bother."

With a snap of his willowy fingers, Nagini unraveled herself from around his shoulders and lunged for the young woman. Hermione's scream was muted as she felt the sharp poke of the snake's fangs touch her flesh. Then she heard the pop of the snake's jaw detaching so it could take a larger bite, and everything was pain.

"You talk too much, Voldemort!" she heard a yell behind her, and, as she sank to her knees, she wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that Harry had stayed.

_At the very least, there's a friend at hand to watch me die,_ she reflected as she grew numb to the physical pain. _Unlike poor Snape._

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-14-

She didn't see the simple _Avada Kedavra_ that hit Harry, but she did notice the falling of a warm body near her own, the withdrawal of Nagini's fangs from her neck, and the pop as Voldemort Disapparated from the Shrieking Shack.

"Harry?"

His gentle green eyes were closed behind his glasses, which were (as they always seemed to be) broken at the middle.

"Harry!"

She grasped at the ground, dragging herself closer to her late friend, and began to sob.

_He died for me. He was supposed to save the Wizarding world, but he died for me. Oh no. I've possibly ruined us forever. And maybe I won't even live to fix my mistake._

She couldn't express herself in words, what with her grief, blood loss, and poison-filled veins. Tears were her only consolation.

At least, until she heard a low voice tell her, "Shut up, Granger, and let me have a look at him!"

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	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-15-

_All my pity is wasted,_ she thought with some chagrin as Severus Snape shoved her away from her best friend's apparent corpse, though she did note that he had apparently dragged himself across the room to get there.

After a few diagnostic spells with what Hermione recognized as _her_ wand, her professor sighed with obvious relief.

"He's all right. Just unconscious. I can't believe it. That spell hit him square in the head."

Snape's neck wasn't healed, but the blood at his throat was clotting, and Hermione envied it. She was altogether too aware of the pain she still felt.

However, as he turned his head to look at her, he noticed her distress. In response, he tossed a full vial into her lap.

Her eyes were skeptical.

"It's phoenix tears, you daft girl," he snapped, raising a hand to blot at the congealed blood on his neck with the cuff of his sleeve. "Apply some as a topical and ingest the rest orally."

With these stern instructions, Hermione uncorked it and, with a jerk, splashed the contents on her wound. Instantly, her blood dried, and she felt her skin knitting together. It was miraculous to experience. She swallowed a little more from the bottle, but it occurred to her that Snape _probably_ didn't have a second bottle on him. _He might need it later.  
_

"The only damned decent thing Albus ever did for me," muttered Snape under his breath, as he fussed over the boy he'd hated all his life.

Hermione realized, almost to her surprise, that her guess about Snape being good was _actually _right!

"I'm so glad," were her first words after her recovery.

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	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-16-

It was Snape's turn to look at her skeptically after that.

"Glad of what?" he asked, dually instructing, "Rouse this dunderhead."

She shook Harry's shoulder, replying, "That you're on our side."

"You didn't realize that when you so _foolishly_ imperiled your life on my behalf?"

When she didn't answer, he added, "Focus on your friend."

But Harry was already awake. "What...where?" he asked stupidly, looking around him, but when he saw Hermione, he smiled. "I'm not dead," he said, a serene smile on his face, "and I've had a chat with Professor Dumbledore in another dimension. Everything's going to be all right. Don't worry. You're not to blame for anything—in fact, he complimented you."

So saying, he hugged Hermione for a long moment. Then he turned his attention to his professor, who glowered behind them.

"Professor Dumbledore had some things to tell me about you too, Professor," he said quietly. "I...I didn't realize...I had no idea that you...and....my-"

"-Potter!" interrupted Snape harshly. "That's enough."

His voice was strained too, however, no matter how he disguised it with his ferocity. Hermione could tell that it was more than just an aftereffect of Nagini's fangs.

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	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-17-

"Okay, Professor, we won't talk about this now, but we must talk about it later. Please?"

Hermione saw a glint in Harry's eye that had heretofore been reserved for Sirius, and sometimes Remus Lupin. She wondered what it meant.

Snape shook his head in response. "I don't know what you want to possibly _talk_ about, Potter, but it...might be arranged."

"Come on," Harry insisted, standing up, "I've got some time now. Dumbledore said that I'm no longer connected to Voldemort—he killed the piece of his soul that was inside me. Now I'm Just Harry. And now I'll be able to defeat him for good!"

"Don't talk too much, Potter," Snape warned, shaking his head wearily. "And I also advise you not to count your chickens. From what I was told...it's either both of you or-"

"-No, no, didn't you hear what I just said?" Harry replied, but he wasn't exasperated or frustrated. Indeed, as he said this, he extended his hands to help his old Professor stand.

_Before me,_ Hermione noted coldly, feeling the seed of hurt and envy spring in her heart. _Thanks, Voldemort. Now I'm discontent with my friends, for no bloody reason except your insinuations!_

The other man regally extended a single hand. "I heard you, but I can't believe you. Likewise, I still don't like you."

"You don't need to like me, Professor," Harry replied gallantly, helping Snape to his feet, "and you never will need to. But I'd like it awfully if you'd talk to me. I...I'm simply bowled over by everything I've learned about you from Dumbledore. Christ!"

Snape's legs gave way under him, and he fell to the ground again.

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	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-18-

"Damn and blast!" Snape cursed aloud, and Hermione could see that Snape was breathing hard and swallowing often. "Hemiparesis!"

_Hemiparesis: partial loss of movement or impaired movement, typically in one leg and an arm. Oh no! _Hermione experimented briefly and, to her horror, discovered that she was not immune either. Her wand hand and right leg were strenuous to move, and she could barely feel her fingers and toes.

Snape was apparently panicking, which Hermione took as a bad sign.

"Just...leave me, Potter," he insisted, "Take care of your friend and send back Healer Pomfrey for me. Then do your business with the Dark Lord."

Harry turned helplessly to Hermione, who gritted her teeth.

"I don't think I can stand, either," Hermione replied, and demonstrated her muscles' futility.

"The nerves are ossifying from the venom," Snape coldly said. "Or it could be the muscles. I don't know."

"I could...levitate you both..." Harry suggested, but he felt a hard glare from Snape in particular.

"Once is enough, Potter," the older man replied acerbically, clearly alluding to the time in their third year. "Just...go."

"I'll be back!" Harry yelled as he ran back down the tunnel.

With an enormous sigh, Snape lay back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"What was Harry talking about, before?" Hermione asked, feeling very tired too.

"Never you mind," Snape replied, adding, "Sometime, Granger, you've got to learn when to stop asking questions."

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	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-19-

She was quiet for a few moments, and then she remembered the phoenix tears that she hadn't used.

_I guess he meant to save them for Harry, in case Harry needed them, _she figured, _and then he sacrificed what he ought to have taken for me. But now he ought to have the rest._

So thinking, she crawled over to him.

"Professor? Here." She chucked them into his lap, but he did not stir. Anxiety creeping upon her, she scooted herself to his side and took his wrist's pulse.

It was very faint indeed.

Hastily, she tipped back half of the remainder of the tears onto his wound, which, like hers, began to knit together. He did not stir.

_I suppose I'll have to dump the rest down his throat myself, _she thought, not pleased at the prospect of touching him so intimately. But, what she needed to do she would do, and she hadn't 'foolishly imperiled' her life on his behalf just to watch him die!

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	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-20-

Her hand came under his chin, and she realized it was stubbly and...well...the only way she could describe it was _virile. _

Shaking this thought away with an indignant toss of her head, she placed her weaker hand on his forehead, to tilt his head back. She was very surprised by the deep wrinkles already furrowed in his brow, despite his youth (for a wizard), and it occurred to her once more how very _wrong_ it was to touch her Professor so.

But she was just doing her duty.

As soon as his head was tilted back, she gently parted his thin, pallid lips with her thumb and forefinger. They were unpleasant to touch, for they were much bitten and chapped, and looked positively painful.

But, now the path was clear for the potion of tears.

She tilted back the vial and let the last slimy drops diffuse across the surface of his tongue, then took his wrist again and prayed that his pulse would be more stable.

It was. And Severus Snape seemed to feel the magic of revitalization coursing through him, as she had before—he opened his eyes, looked painfully at the girl sitting next to him, and muttered:

"Bloody Gryffindors."

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	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-21-

"You weren't supposed to do that," Snape whispered hoarsely. "I'd had enough already."

This puzzled her. "The vial was full!"

His eyes were painful. "Even a mere whiff is enough to provide...some relief. Some strength."

With that, he slumped again, his eyes closed and his muscles taut.

Hermione sat in fascinated horror, then, for lack of knowing what to do, she took his pulse again. It was steady and regular.

_A coma?_ she wondered, but then she felt her own eyelids growing heavy.

_I don't know what it is, but I'm exceedingly tired._

With that, she shrugged a little away from her Professor and leaned against the wall in imitation of him.

She didn't remember anything else until she opened her eyes and recognized the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-22-

"I'm brave, Madame Pomfrey. What's the worst of it?"

Hermione awoke to hear Harry's voice somewhere rather close, feeling the stiff starched sheets of a hospital bed all around her. As her eyes opened, she saw the great flying buttresses of the Hospital Wing and felt a cool draft of May morning breeze.

She had returned to consciousness. Careful, she turned her head a fraction towards the voices, swallowing to eliminate the dryness in her mouth.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she heard Madame Pomfrey say, "I can't say for certain that either of them will come out of it. But, the good news is, I've detected evidence of Phoenix tears on both of their lips, and, as I pointed out before, the wounds on their necks have nearly healed."

The pair was behind a set of curtains that, Hermione noticed, framed her bed. They couldn't see that she was awake, and she sighed.

"I wouldn't give up hope at all, Harry. There's a very good chance," Pomfrey said, "that both will be back in our realm eventually...but time will tell."

_I'm awake, _Hermione thought desperately, attempting to sit up and alert. _I'm out of it already!_

But then she felt a great and heavy weight pressing on her tense head, and she leaned back on her pillow and closed her eyes.

_I just need to sleep..._

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	23. Chapter 23

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-23-

The next time she opened her eyes, she heard the humming of the matron and the clicking of knitting needles.

"Well now, dearie, you have a nice rest?" asked Pomfrey, without looking up, and then Hermione realized that the Healer was talking to her.

"I'm still tired," Hermione rasped painfully, then grimaced.

"Water?"

Pomfrey was immediately at her side, filling a lightweight balsawood cup with water. She put it to Hermione's lips, and the girl drank greedily.

"Not too much, now," the older woman said, "you wouldn'ae want to get sick all over."

"How long was I asleep?" Hermione asked, relishing the coolness of the cup in her hands.

"Just nigh on a day. Are you peckish? I've some digestives—but if you'll be wanting something more substantial, would you care for some broth?"

"Sounds wonderful," Hermione replied, "broth, I mean."

With that, the Healer called an elf, which brought back an enormous bowl of Hogwarts' finest vegetable soup. 

But, to her immense sadness, she couldn't lift her right hand to take the spoon.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	24. Chapter 24

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-24-

"I can't move my hand," whispered Hermione, anxiety draining her energy. She fell back on her pillows, though the way that Pomfrey had propped them, the distance to go was not far.

The Healer tut-tutted. "No, love. The nerves were poisoned. It's lucky that only the right half of your body was affected. The poor Professor was not so."

She experimented carefully—indeed, her left hand was perfectly controllable, if a little weak, as was her left leg. However, her right leg and her right arm refused to budge.

_I...how am I supposed to get around?_ she wondered, her nervousness making her tremble. _Or even use magic? This is horrible! And she says Professor Snape is worse?_ She guiltily realized that she'd forgotten all about him.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione asked, taking the spoon with her left hand to feed herself. "How is he? Is he still alive?"

Pomfrey's large eyes reflected the many burdens of her profession, and Hermione got the idea that perhaps Pomfrey was well acquainted with Severus Snape as a patient.

"He's alive," the Healer said soberly, "but not by much more than the skin of his teeth. It's a cryin' shame that he didn't just let himself die, in my personal opinion, because when he awakes—if he does, mind—he'll have a hell of an existence to deal with."

"Why so?" queried the young Gryffindor.

"Why, he won't have the use of much more than his speech, the way I figure it. All four limbs of his are dead weights."

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-25-

"Oh," Hermione replied, grateful at once to at least have her one hand to aid her. "How dreadful."

"Dreadful indeed," replied Pomfrey, "and what with the kind of life he's been living all his life, finally when he's finally free of the war and both sides of it...he'll be trapped by his own body."

Pity welled in Hermione's heart, and she wondered if she should have used all of the phoenix tears on her professor. _Heaven knows, I did little enough to deserve them._

"Would you like to know about the results of the Battle now, hon?" the Healer asked kindly, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Yes, indeed."

And so Pomfrey began to tell her.

Many people had died, but not so many as Hermione would have guessed. Among the more painful were Fred Weasley and Remus and Tonks Lupin. Hermione lay back on her pillows to listen to the rest of what Pomfrey had to say, numb and teary-eyed.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	26. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-26-

"But Harry's alive. And we won," Hermione reasoned, wondering whether the losses outweighed the victory. She and other hapless victims would have been slated for destruction, however, had Voldemort succeeded in Harry's stead—and she was immensely grateful that such hadn't happened.

"It would have been nice if we hadn't needed to fight at all," she complained.

"I agree, hon, that would'ae been nice," the Healer replied, resuming the clicking of her needles.

"Can...can I see Harry and Ron, soon?" Hermione asked, guiltily remembering that her parents were far off in Australia and didn't even remember that she existed. _I suppose my only family are my friends, for the moment._

"They'll be workin' on helpin' to rebuild the castle right now, but when I see them at supper, I'll let'em know you're up to seein' them."

Satisfied with that, Hermione smiled. "Wonderful. Erm..." Her eyelids were heavy as lead. "I think I'll be going back to sleep now."

"That's fine, dear," the matron replied, not looking at her.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	27. Chapter 27

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-27-

When Hermione awoke next, the curtain around her bed was gone, and a hot meal appeared on a tray on her lap as soon as she opened her eyes. Picking distastefully at the bland oatmeal, she saw that the curtain from around her bed had been removed, and now she could see that there were several other patients in the wing.

Most were students of around her age, and she recognized the majority of them by sight if not by name.

She saw two Hufflepuff boys, sporting immense scars but seeming cheerful nonetheless, who chatted aimlessly and laughed with each other. Neither looked like he would be bedridden for very much longer.

She saw Marietta Edgecombe, who seemed sulky and put-upon, appearing as though she was compelled to sit on a couple of horned toads. Hermione noted with scorn that the other girl was casting dirty looks at _her_ over the cover of a book. _Fat lot of right she's got to do that, the sneak, _Hermione judged savagely, bitterness from fifth year resurfacing. _There's nothing even bloody wrong with her, from what I can see._

She saw Roger Davies, too, experimenting with crutches at his bedside. Noticing Hermione looking at him, he waved, but almost lost his balance as a result. With a tired hand, she waved back.

The bed nearest her was curtained in black. It was terrible to behold, and Hermione fancied that the folds of the linen could suck happiness from her soul as well as any Dementor. She could only guess that behind the curtain lay the comatose Severus Snape.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	28. Chapter 28

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-28-

Boredom soon seized Hermione in the Hospital Wing. Harry and Ron came to see her as soon as they heard of her revival, and once every day afterward, but their time with her was short because they were working to fix the castle. They supplied her with books from the library and sweet morsels from the kitchen, but nonetheless their presence was minimal.

It wouldn't have been too bad, if the other patients hadn't been leaving the sinking ship so quickly.

Roger Davies had nothing more than a broken ankle, and it wasn't even from the Battle—he'd plummeted from some scaffolding during the renovation of the castle. So, as soon as it had set neatly, he was permitted to leave and go back to work. Then the Hufflepuff boys left, one at a time, one to go find his family because it was still in hiding, and one to also help reconstruct the castle.

Hermione was chagrined to see that Marietta Edgecombe had lost an entire leg in the battle, and therefore was _not_ quite as fine as she'd imagined. The girl's mother came to pick her up fairly soon, however, so Hermione wasn't cursed with her presence for very long.

Life was otherwise a cycle of nastiness: rubbing foul-smelling lotion all over her affected limbs, taking revolting potions, and eating tragically-bland meals that were selected to prevent an upset stomach. All this, plus she was not allowed a bath except for every other day.

_At least I can brush my teeth whenever I want,_ Hermione sourly consoled herself. It wasn't long before she resumed her obsessive flossing habit, previously abandoned in her fifth year.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	29. Chapter 29

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-29-

Some days, Hermione would imagine that she could feel her right-foot toes or the tips of her right-hand fingers, and, in an attempt at independence, she'd grasp her right ankle and wrench her leg from under the blankets. Sometimes she managed so far as to slip down to the floor. However, every time she tried this adventure, she discovered herself incapable of controlling her limbs, much less of standing upon her own two feet. Her balance was obstinately absent.

So, she'd hoist herself back onto the bed before Pomfrey noticed. This was a laborious process in itself. First, she had to balance herself upright without use of either arm, a difficult process considering that simply being upright made her nauseous. The most efficient way to execute this was to tuck her head down and lean it into the side of the bed, so that her left hand was free. Then she had to bend her left leg, without falling over, so that she could take hold of her right ankle with her left hand, and then she had to stand straight again to establish her right leg on the bed. Before this, she had to make sure that her right arm was already on the bed, because otherwise she'd have to start all over. From there, she had to use all the strength in her left leg and left arm to spring into the bed, and then she had to crawl back to position and readjust the bedclothes.

Needless to say, it was easier to stay where she was put, but Hermione was stubborn and would not settle for being told what to do.

One morning, two weeks after she'd first awoken, Hermione got out of bed and attempted this acrobatic experiment again—but, for a brief moment, she was stable on her two feet.

"Huzzah!" she exclaimed, the victory as monumental to her as Waterloo was to Wellington. However, the very shriek of success was her downfall, for the vibration of it sent her toppling—forward, and headfirst into the black curtain.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .

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	30. Chapter 30

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-30-

The black curtain and the rods holding it up collapsed, and Hermione landed on the floor among the mess.

"What on earth?" She heard a voice from far across the wing, and Hermione's face grew red as Madam Pomfrey's sensible shoes clomped across the marble floor.

"Poppy?" Another voice was above her, too, one that was gravelly and low and tainted with despondency. Hermione grew even redder as she realized that Professor Snape was now awake, and she was practically under his bed.

"Severus!" The Healer practically squealed to see him awake, and Hermione felt uneasy pangs of jealousy. _She didn't act like that when I came 'round,_ she thought, but dismissed this. It sounded like Severus Snape was not responding happily to the coddling that he was receiving.

"Poppy, your concern is overwhelming. Pray, stop muttering over me and be quiet."

To which the matron replied with a huff, "You can't blame me for being pleased to see you back with us, Severus."

"That's no excuse to disregard the comfort of your patients," was the stringent reply. "Though, I do understand your lack of concern for those patients who like to crawl on the floor and soil the nice clean gowns you provide. What disrespect to our hard-working laundry elves, Miss Granger."

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	31. Chapter 31

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-31-

It had been many years since Hermione was so humiliated.

_Actually, the last time was probably when the sodding arse told me he 'saw no difference' in regard to my teeth_, she acknowledged.

She briefly considered holding her tongue, but then she realized that A) she wasn't enrolled in Hogwarts this year, and therefore couldn't be expelled, B) even if she was, Severus Snape's authority in the Hogwarts staff was probably nil, and C) she'd bloody saved his life, and he didn't even have a thank-you for her.

It was at this point that Madam Pomfrey's strong arms lifted her from the floor.

"Oh! M'dear, don't you think that you'd be warmer under the bedclothes?"

The nurse's bemused expression meant that Hermione was safe from interrogation. _She probably knows how hard I've been working to try and regain use of my limbs_, the Gryffindor thought. Relieved at not having to explain herself, Hermione decided to save the scathing replies to Snape that were congealing in her brain.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	32. Chapter 32

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-32-

As soon as Hermione settled, she turned herself to regard the bitter Potions Master and the nurse. The latter bit her lip, readjusted her glasses, and whispered softly to her patient, only to receive a terse rebuke:

"Harrumph! As if I _hadn't _noticed."

The Healer just sighed and cast a few spells over Severus' limp body. Her lips moved as she produced streams of pleasantries, but she never seemed to look at her patient's face.

"I'm not interested in your sympathetic bleating," the ex-Headmaster declared. "Just set me to rights and be gone already."

"Be quiet, love," hushed the matron, her wand wavering. "You're a fine piece of work."

Hermione watched Pomfrey's movements, noting that the woman seemed unusually distracted. Pomfrey wasn't the best Healer in the wizarding world, but she was usually in better form than she was now while operating around Snape. Her shaky hands, her flighty concentration, and her obsequious attitude must mean _something_, but what that something was, Hermione couldn't guess for certain.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	33. Chapter 33

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-33-

Soon Pomfrey sniffed and stepped away from the immobile potions master. "That's all for now, luv, now don't fret that I'm leaving you."

"I'll be grieving like Tristan," quipped the man, grumpy. His voice shifted to falsetto. "'Why then, God reward you, Iseult!'"

"Shush," scolded Pomfrey, though her indifference was reflected in the fact that she didn't even look at him.

"Don't flatter yourself: you're not the handsome, dashing young warrior," Hermione muttered to herself, "when you had to have a _girl_ save you."

She didn't count on his ears picking that up, but she heard a snort come from the other bed.

"A _girl _indeed, Miss Granger," the taciturn man responded as Hermione's cheeks turned scarlet. "You even bear the trademark of naivety."

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	34. Chapter 34

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-34-

Hermione eschewed acknowledgment of her shame, and refused to respond to her former Professor. Because he seemed indifferent, or perhaps because he perceived the metaphorical ball was in her court, he didn't carry conversation either.

The silence was neither amicable nor aggressive, but still noticeable. And Hermione definitely noticed it.

Out of loneliness and boredom she thought a lot about him; Hermione herself was so weary of the hospital wing that she eagerly chatted with anyone who came near her. When there was no people handy, she took to pretending there were. It was comforting to talk to _someone_, she thought as she closed her eyes against the stained-glass sunlight that streamed through the window, even if they weren't really there. Sometimes she addressed the spirit of Ron, for she knew she loved him, and she also talked to Harry.

She half-expected her imaginary discussions with the Boy-Snape-Had-Always-Hated would elicit a response from her bedridden fellow, but they didn't, even when she made oblique allusions to Snape to purposefully goad a reaction. Either the man didn't notice or didn't care, and both explanations bothered her for some reason.

Often, she questioned his motives in keeping to himself. To quarantine one's self behind an impenetrable barrier, to dismiss the warmth and happiness and reality of the earth's daily cycles, to have only the company of an authoritative healer six times a day for fifteen minutes--she couldn't understand why he'd want to do that. She understood the value of solitude, knew what it was to want 'alone-time', to contemplate and dredge dark oil from inner wells, but in her current condition the grass looked greener elsewhere. She wasn't the type to be content with what she had.

Then again, soon she remembered that she was trying too hard: Snape was the greasy bat of dungeons, and everyone knew that he preferred to wallow in dark dreams of misanthropy. Still, Hermione wished often that her ex-Professor would throw up the veil, would tell Pomfrey to remove the curtains, would allow her to see and talk with him.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	35. Chapter 35

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-35-

Snape's tea-tray clinked and clanked as Pomfrey stepped from behind the black curtain. With the toe of her sensible shoe, she closed the gap she'd created to admit her bulk, and she plodded to her office. Hermione heard one last _clunk _as the Healer placed the tray in the dumbwaiter, and then one heavy _thwump _as the Healer settle into the worn leather chair (that stretched its arms wide to accommodate her).

It was three weeks after Hermione had awoken, and she was seized with the lust for motion. The infirmary was so quiet, now that much of the healing of the castle was over, and since she had no-where she could go with her useless limbs, her heart and brain scraped at the bars of the cage of tedium.

Books were not much help. She could read only so much, and it was far easier to concentrate with the hubbub of daily life around her. In the disconcerting silence, she couldn't hear anything but a buzzing in her ears.

What was even more maddening was the fact that there _were _people nearby. Just two, most of the time. Pomfrey was reclusive and preferred to keep to her magazines, smoke the occasional pipe when it was cold at night, and tended to her patients as it suited her. A timer woke her from her frequent naps to check on Hermione and Snape.

Yes, Snape was still there too. Hermione felt just a little bit irked at the fact, if only because she never heard a word out of him. He had cast--how she had no idea, but it was when Pomfrey wasn't there, so he must have done it wandlessly--a permanent _Muffilato _around his bed, so if he talked, Hermione couldn't tell. She'd never hear a word. For all she knew, he was talking to himself all the time.

The buzzing irritated Hermione to no end, and sometimes she wondered if it was just from the _Muffilato _or if it were from her own ears straining for something, anything that didn't involve the clattering of wooden hospital placesettings, Pomfrey's daily habits, and her own breathing and eating and page-turning.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	36. Chapter 36

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling). _

**Paralyzed  
**

-36-

One day, a month after having awoken, Hermione opened her eyes to meet the morning light with her usual frustration. However, as she adjusted to the state of wakefulness and blinked away the tears that formed from the brightness of the infirmary, she realized something was different. Something was missing.

She breathed in and out; no, the faint scents of dust, tobacco, antiseptics and stale tea weren't new. Neither was the altogether too-cheerful sun poking its beastly little nose in the leaded window, or the muted streams of prism rainbows from said window.

Hoping against hope that the change had to do with her own physiological self, Hermione attempted to lift her useless leg and arm. This was to no avail.

She heard Pomfrey's timer chime, and the resulting clomping of the good nurse's shoes across the marble floor, and she realized what the difference in her environment was. The _Muffilato_ that surrounded Snape's bed was gone.

Straining with curiosity, Hermione closed her eyes and isolated the sounds she heard. Pomfrey pacing around in her office, the faint laughter of a group passing the Hospital Wing, the heaviness of her own breathing and the grinding of her teeth...

But nothing whatsoever from beyond the black curtain.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	37. Chapter 37

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling)._

_  
_Ooh. Ahh. Haven't updated this beauty for a month. Come on, girl, you aren't dead yet, stop rolling idly in the haystack, get out of that stable, and giddyup. Thanks to Escoger for reminding me about this piece.

**Paralyzed  
**

-37-

She couldn't understand it. If Snape had been moved, then, by George, she ought to have heard it.

_They must have done it right in the middle of the night_, she reasoned. _That or very early this morning. He was here last evening._

Feeling a bit curious, she propped herself up on the bed with her good arm, awaiting the arrival of her breakfast. It wasn't that she was unduly concerned--there was no doubt in her mind that Snape was in no danger under the capable hands of Madame Pomfrey--but she still felt a little bit protective.

_After all, I did save his life. It would be a shame if he never got to 'live' in the real sense again_, she thought.

"Time for your nerve analysis," Pomfrey said, entering her curtained domain with the warm, apologetic look of an astute poodle that has tracked mud onto the nice clean floor. "Spit-spot, spit-spot," she gently clucked as Hermione lingered over the porridge, "there'll be plenty of time to fill your stomach once I've finished your morning ablutions."

The process of emptying bed-pans and testing her body for new developments was tedious, but finally it was over, and Hermione ventured to ask about the Potions Professor.

"When did Professor Snape vacate the premises, Pomfrey? Did he take a turn for the worse...and have to go to St. Mungo's?" It hadn't happened before, but Hermione assumed that it was the most likely prospect.

"Why, no, dear, he's still here," Pomfrey said in some confusion, drawing Hermione's curtains down and stepping over to her other patients' bed. "Lawks-a-mussy, why ever would you think that..."

As she said this, however, she drew back the black curtain and gasped.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


	38. Chapter 38

_Disclaimer: I'm not Just Kidding when I say that I'm not J.K. (Rowling)._

**Paralyzed  
**

-38-

"Why, blow me down with a feather!" exclaimed Pomfrey, astonished and incredulous. "Severus!"

He lay there, unmoving, with a thin veneer of what looked like cellophane stretched across his blue face.

"Good God!" Hermione echoed, watching as Madame Pomfrey feverishly extricated the plastic from her patient's visage and began to pump his chest vigorously.

"Where on _earth _did that stuff come from?" the nurse panted, thoroughly flustered. "Suffocation is...one of the three major causes of death...in ultraparalysis cases...like his...I would never...let it...float into this...wing!"

Finally, after performing an admirable CPR on her patient, Madame Pomfrey's efforts were rewarded when Snape coughed and sputtered.

"What on _earth!" _Pomfrey demanded, putting her hands on her fleshy hips in an authoritative manner. "Severus, why did you not call out? It's ridiculous, that's what it is. I'm always within earshot; what happened? Why did...?"

Her question died on her lips as an almost-imperceptible sob arose from the survivor's throat.

. . . x . . . X . . . x . . .


End file.
